


I can almost feel the tick like clockwork

by Skyson



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dreams vs. Reality, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyson/pseuds/Skyson
Summary: Phil Coulson has a new boss, and he can't get him out of his head.---Jeffrey Mace has a new job, and can't stop thinking about one of his agents.





	I can almost feel the tick like clockwork

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Universe that leans more MCU-based than AoS-based. SHIELD more or less stays legitimate, even after the Hydra-reveal, and although Agent Coulson has his own team to manage, it is within the hierarchy of the agency and he still works closely with Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov.

He sighed as he stretched languidly, curling his arms beneath his pillow beneath him and snuggled deeper into it. Only half-awake, he was aware enough to remember that for the first time in a very long time, he could afford to sleep in.

“Mmm,” A sleepy voice next to him murmured indistinctly before the mattress dipped near his hip and a body shifted over on top of him. A pair of strong hands slid upward across his shirtless back, and a warm mouth followed.

He laughed softly, smiling into his pillow as growing arousal pulled him further from sleep. His amusement turned into soft moans when teeth began to nibble at his shoulders and the nape of his neck.

“Heh heh,” The man above him chuckled proudly at the noises he was drawing from Coulson. “Good morning, Phillip,” A most definite boner pressed up against the bottom of his ass.

“ _Jeffrey_ ,” Coulson gasped, curling his hips back and up against the weight of the other man.  
  


**———**

 

Coulson jerked awake suddenly, mildly disoriented. There was a mark on his pillow where he had drooled in his sleep, and he scowled at it as he rolled over to plant his feet on the floor and stand, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He then touched his palm against his chest, feeling comfort in the fabric of the t-shirt that he wore.

It had only been a dream. A weirdly sensuous, vivid, dream.

His phone beeped, tugging his thoughts back into focus again.

_-Coulson, don’t 4get mtng w/ head honcho @ 9am_

Coulson rolled his eyes at the grammar of the text, and typed out a quick reply before tossing his phone onto his bed and heading toward his closet.

When his phone sounded again, he realized he’d been standing there indecisively for almost ten minutes. He scowled at himself once more and reached for one of his favorite suits; a grey number that was newer in his collection so thusly fit him better than most of the others. It was also one of the few non-black suits that he owned. His subconscious niggled at him, and he had to argue with himself that there was no ulterior motive to his choice of dress. He simply liked this particular suit.

Double-checking the knot of his tie was only habit, nothing more, and when his phone dinged impatiently he heaved a heavy sigh before grabbing it, his badge, and his car keys.

“I’m on my way, Barton; cool it.” Coulson grumbled into his phone after having called his teammate.

“You’re verging on _late_ , Phil,” Clint Barton teased. “Perpetually-Early-Phil-Coulson is _always_  on time, at the very least!”

“Maybe I’ve been shackled to your perpetually-late ass for too long,” Coulson replied, his shoes echoing through the otherwise quiet parking garage as he walked to his car.

“Yeah, well, you’re in luck — rumor has it the new boss is making some changes.” Clint didn’t sound too keen about that.

“That’s to be expected with a change in leadership, Barton,” Coulson reminded him. “And it’s not as if we won’t still answer to Fury — he’s just more behind the scenes, now.”

“Depending on the Director’s decision, we may very well _not_  be answering to Fury any more.” Clint pointed out.

“Unbunch your panties and wait outside. I’ll be there in ten.” Coulson rolled his eyes, hanging up before Clint could say anything else.

Coulson was in complete agreement that this day and age, SHIELD needed to change. He just wondered how many of these particular changes would be helpful ones.

As he began to drive out of the garage, he once more was hit with mild anxiety about the meeting that awaited him. It would be his first official face-to-face with the new Director, after only a brief polite greeting back when the title was publicly transferred from Fury.

Pursing his lips, Coulson forced all the thoughts of his weird subconscious into a box in the corner of his mind, and he thought nothing more of his dream.  
  


**... ...**

  
“I know you’re used to being the boots on the ground, but I would really like you to stick around here for a while, and share your expertise.” Jeffrey Mace’s tone was a careful mix of hopeful, sincere, and unquestioning. Coulson actually couldn’t tell whether or not the new Director was merely putting on an act, or not. “You are arguably the best tactical agent we have. I’d love to have your eyes, at least until I get settled in here.”

Coulson didn’t miss Fury standing off to the side, nodding in approval, but he was momentarily distracted by various fleeting images across his consciousness. Memories of his dream teased at the corners of his mind, and he shifted his weight on his feet.

Natasha didn’t look entirely pleased, as she raised her eyebrow in Clint’s direction. Clint was standing quietly with his brow furrowed just as sternly as his arms were clasped across his chest.

“I’ve read your files, Phil.” Jeffrey told him, and Coulson honestly believed that he was being earnest. “There’s no one better than you.”

“If that’s the case, then he shouldn’t be tied to a desk,” Natasha argued.

“I’ll be wherever you need me, sir.” Coulson informed Jeffrey respectfully. He could feel both of his teammates gaping at him, but he ignored them, and folded his hands together in front of his belt, relaxing his stance.

Jeffrey beamed, clearly relieved.

“Barton, Romanov,” The Director then addressed the other two in the room, “I fully understand that a certain level of black ops are an unfortunate necessity in this day and age. That being said, I want full reports from the both of you on all ongoing and future missions that are already in the works. The media is pointed toward us now more than ever before, and we have to handle ourselves appropriately.” He paused for a breath, his gaze narrowing just slightly. “All Level 6 and above missions require re-approval effective immediately.”

“ _What_?” Clint blurted in surprise.

“After Phil and I have confirmed that nothing threatens the image of our organization.” Jeffrey continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“'Our' organization?” Maria Hill echoed, pointing the words in Coulson’s direction specifically.

“Right,” Jeffrey realized, as if he only just remembered. “Speaking of which — congratulations, Agent Coulson, and welcome to Level 9.”

Coulson blinked in surprise, and first glanced toward Director Fury. Fury didn’t say anything, but there was no denying that he looked proud of what was happening. So he’d discussed this with the new Director prior to this meeting, then.

Coulson shifted his feet slightly, and moved his hands from in front of him to behind, standing a bit more officially as Jeffrey opened up his top desk drawer and pulled out a new badge.

“As you know, this comes with upgraded clearance levels. We can go over the details later,” Jeffrey explained as he held out the badge. Coulson stepped closer to the desk to gratefully accept it.

“Thank you,” He replied sincerely, allowing himself just a moment to glance at the new color of his ID. It was blue, with an almost holographic tint of platinum in it. He furrowed his brow thoughtfully, glancing back up at Jeffrey as he replaced his old badge with the new one. Maria, who he now shared the same clearance level with, had an orange badge. His old badge Level 8 had been red, and Clint and Nat’s Level 7’s were blue — but not shiny like this.

Jeffrey winked at him, of all things. Coulson felt his eyes widen, and he blinked quickly, putting on a stoic expression before one of his friends noted his weird expressions.

“Okay, moving on,” Jeffrey stuffed his hands into his trousers pockets and adopted an almost casual stance. “I know it’ll probably take you two some time to sort out the paperwork, so prioritize accordingly. I’m assigning Melinda May to your office; she should be moving in as we speak, actually. She’ll help coordinate both the paperwork and any travel you may need.”

“ _Melinda_  May? Paperwork?” Clint blurted out again.

“Yes,” Jeffrey frowned, confused by Clint’s incredulousness. “She requested it.”

“ _Requested_?”

“Barton, if all you’re going to do is repeat what I say, we can end this early and I can get started figuring out what the hell I’m supposed to say during my interview later today,” Jeffrey replied wryly.

“Media relations,” Fury grimaced in distaste, “On that note, I’ll see you later. You’ve got this,” He encouraged Jeffrey, and then clasped Coulson’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on him,” He advised lowly, and Coulson raised his eyebrow. “Government thinks he’s  _their_  puppet to use, but that isn’t going to be the case.” Fury half-explained, and Coulson gave him an infinitesimal nod.

His job wouldn’t only be to assist the new Director during his transition — it was to keep an eye on him and make sure he was working for the good of SHIELD and for what SHIELD stood for.  
  


**———**

 

 _Paid the cost to be the boss_  
_Paid the cost to be the boss_  
_Look at me, know what you see?_  
_I’m a bad mothe_ r

James Brown crooned from the the record player somewhere behind him, but he couldn’t look for it in his current position; bent over across the desk with his chest pressed against the heavy glass. He couldn’t even look had he really wanted to, with his arms pulled above his head, his wrists flexicuffed to the handle of the desk drawer.

“Having fun, fooling around...”

Coulson closed his eyes as fingers trailed down his spine, all the way down to his naked butt. He surprisingly felt totally comfortable with his nakedness —

A hand curled knowingly around his hard-on and stroked him confidently.

“I should’ve known you were kinky,” The fingers that had been gentle along his back now were suddenly relentlessly teasing at his opening. Coulson gasped in a sharp breath, his legs trembling as a finger pushed in and immediately pressed against his prostate.

He knew him well, didn’t he? Knew him better than he knew himself; knew _just_  how to make him squirm —

“I meant it, you know,” Breath whispered against Coulson’s ear, “There is absolutely no one better than you.”

The hand around his cock firmed and twisted in time with the thrusting finger and the sharp bite of teeth against the back of his shoulder.

Coulson moaned embarrassingly loudly as he came,  
  


**... ...**  
  


“Shit,” Coulson croaked as he blinked in the darkness of his room. His boxers were uncomfortably wet and sweat clung to his brow.

As he got into the shower, he could only thank that he didn’t share his quarters with any of the other agents, so no one else could’ve heard him coming in his sleep.

While he hadn’t been excited at the prospect of being stuck at headquarters for the foreseeable future, clearly his subconscious didn’t mind at all him being “tied to a desk”.

He decided to blame Natasha for putting those thoughts into his mind. He absolutely did not have a thing for his new boss. It was all just a weird set of circumstances, that was all. He was just lonely; turning everything into innuendo that didn’t need to be and shouldn’t be. He just needed a good wank and it would all be beyond him.

He glared down at his relaxed cock. He hadn’t even had the chance to enjoy his orgasm in reality, and it wasn’t like he had the time to stand in the shower until he could coax himself into interest again — he needed to hit the gym before work, and —

Well, that was curious.

Recalling his dream apparently had a stronger effect on his body than he thought.  
  


**... ...**  
  


By the time Coulson was halfway through his treadmill run in the gym, he was feeling pretty good and looking forward to the rest of the day. Maybe being stuck in the office wouldn’t be too bad.

“Working up a good sweat there, sir?” One of SHIELD’s top scientists (arguably their _top_  scientist), Jemma Simmons, spoke up next to the machine he was using.

“I don’t sweat,” He retorted, smirking down at her, “I glisten.”

She laughed lightly, usually shy around the higher level agents but always open with Coulson. He liked her a lot, and her boyfriend too. Before this new assignment, he’d been considering asking them both to join his operation team. He supposed he still could recommend them for the job, but....

“Agent Coulson?” Simmons prodded, pulling Coulson’s attention back into focus. He smiled apologetically at her. “If it’s inappropriate conversation, I understand,” Now he wildly wondered what he’d missed.

“No, no, I’m sorry; just hair-brained. What did you ask?” Coulson asked her, slowing down his treadmill speed to a cool-down level.

“I’m just curious of your impression of our new Director,” She wondered, twisting open her water bottle to take a drink.

_Sharp. Discerning. Compassionate. Hunky as fuck._

“He seems like good people.” Coulson told her casually. “But I honestly don’t know him well, yet.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Simmons smiled at him, and he raised his eyebrow. “I mean, you have more of a chance than anyone else! Word spreads quickly around here, sir,” Her smile turned into something of a conspiratorial grin, “He’s such a mystery! An outsider becoming Director? And now you’re his right hand man!”

Coulson inwardly groaned at her comment, his brain not even waiting for the seclusion of sleep before taking her words and twisting them into inappropriate images.

“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your workout,” Simmons drew herself back into her professional scientist persona. “And don’t forget that you’re due for a physical this month!”

That he groaned out loud in complaint at.  
  


**———**

 

Coulson was nothing if not professional. As the weeks turned into months, he developed a decent working relationship with the new Director, which was usually unsettled only when Coulson had to argue on behalf of Clint and Natasha — which unfortunately happened more often than either man liked. That was nothing new, of course; the partners had been a pain in the ass for Fury, too — but Fury always just shook his head and told Coulson to deal with it. Now, Jeffrey wanted to be the one to deal with it, but he was rarely sure how to.

More often than not he ended up alienating the agents, and they weren’t the only two, either.

“I don’t understand.” Jeffrey pouted as he sat down in his desk chair. “I want them to trust me as their boss but everything I do just—!” He waved his hand in the air, indicating that the opposite affect happens.

“Just give it time,” Coulson soothed, standing across from the desk. “Fury has been the boss for a long time and they’ve gotten used to his way of things. It’s hard for them to see beyond your suit, Jeffrey. They all suspect that you’re simply a political pawn for the military to use at leisure.”

“What about you?” Jeffrey wondered. “Is that what you see when you look at me?”

He was feeling particularly lonely and beat down, today, and he needed friendly encouragement, not a dissertation on how sexy he was. Coulson tried to focus his thoughts.

“I see a man who wants to do what is best for the world around him, even if he may not know exactly how to go about that.” Coulson mused slowly, considering his words carefully. “I see a man who has been thrust into a leadership position that perhaps hasn’t had much high-level leadership experience — but a man who is willing to listen and to learn from those around him.” Jeffrey relaxed at Coulson’s words, his expression softening. “I see a man trying to find his place in the new world around him; a world that has just about every eye on him.”

Coulson paused, realizing that maybe he’d gotten a little too deep there. Jeffrey was quiet for a long moment.

“You... I feel like you’re the only person who really knows me, Phil. Who sees _me_.”

“I always see you.” Coulson murmured before he could even think about it. Jeffrey smiled warmly, and Coulson held his breath. He was so -

“Perhaps... if I were to join in on one of these game nights you all have, cards or something, do you think I would be welcome?”

Coulson released his breath.

“You know about our game nights?” He wondered, and Jeffrey smirked.

“I’m the boss. I know everything.” He joked.

If only he knew the things that Coulson dreamed about, alone in his quarters in the middle of the night... would he still be smirking like that?

Oh, fuck, what if he _would_  still be smirking like that?

“Of course you are welcome to join any time,” Coulson assured him, forcefully clawing his thoughts away from gutter territory and putting them back into their designated Jeffrey Box. (That box was getting pretty full, these days.)

“Maybe check with the rest of your team, first?” Jeffrey suggested shyly. “I don’t want them feeling obligated just because I’m the boss. I just want...” He trailed off, looking chagrined.

Coulson understood his loneliness. He used to feel that way, too; especially while managing the Initiative.

“It’s hard to know your place when you’re surrounded by presidents and prime ministers, kings and queens, and not to mention the gods and superheroes.” Coulson commiserated. “But believe me, from my own experience, you _will_  figure it out.” Coulson thought that perhaps his ragtag team of Inhumans would be a good place to start.

The whole team wasn’t Inhuman — Hunter was a mercenary on hire and his wife Bobbi was a solid field agent. Elena, Daisy, and Joey were Inhumans, but they’d all come from varying backgrounds and wouldn’t be quite as judgmental about SHIELD hierarchy as the other agents were. Clint and Natasha, of course, already had a grudgingly acceptant opinion of Jeffrey, though mostly because Coulson strongly advised them against anything else otherwise.

There were others that joined in on game nights every now and then: Mack, the mechanic who had a serious crush on Elena; May, who was Coulson’s oldest friend and once-partner back in their early SHIELD days; Andrew, May’s husband and also long-time friend of Coulson; and Dr. Simmons occasionally along with her boyfriend Fitz. They were such an eclectic group of people, Coulson was sure it would be a good starting point for Jeffrey to find his place among his agents.

“You have such confidence in me, Phil, that I...” Jeffrey’s tone was oddly soft, wondrous, and tugged at Coulson’s wandering attention. “I don’t know what I did to earn it, but I don’t want to lose it.”

These rather tender moments between them didn’t happen often, but when they did, Coulson couldn’t keep his heart from tripping all over itself even more.

He was determined to show the rest of his team the Jeffrey that he saw. (Well, most of what he saw. Some of it he rather selfishly wanted to keep for himself.)  
  


**———**

 

 _Help me, come on, come on_  
_Somebody, help me now (I’ll take you there)_  
_Help me, y’all (I’ll take you there)_  
_Help me now (I’ll take you there)_  
_Oh!_  
_Oh, oh! Mercy._  
_Oh, let me take you there_

“All right,” Jeffrey conceded carefully, from somewhere above him. The room was dark, and warm — verging on uncomfortably warm. “Easy, now,” He warned lightly, his breath short.

It was vague and abstract in that way that dreams were — and Coulson was aware, this time, that he was dreaming — but for once he didn’t force himself to wake.

“All right,” Jeffrey said again, sounding much more accepting this time, “ah— do it, do it,”

Coulson felt hands sliding against his head, fingers pushing and gripping through his hair, stimulating but not painful. He thought about making a joke about being careful with his sparse hair, but his mouth was rather occupied at the moment.

“Aw, yeah— mm, come on love,” Dream-Jeffrey was quite the talker when it came to being orally pleased. “Phil, Phil, Phil,” He chanted. Coulson redoubled his efforts, making sure he paid care to every inch of skin in front of him. “Yeah, that, okay... fuck... oh God help me,” Jeffrey released a desperate chuckle, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. “So good, so good, so good— ”

Coulson focused all of the attention of his mouth and tongue on the tip, now, kissing and licking and sucking while he pumped Jeffrey with one hand and himself with the other.

Jeffrey hissed out a long breath, moaning words that Coulson couldn’t understand but didn’t need to as he came.

“Yes yes yes,” He praised, pulsing against Coulson’s tongue as his fingers shifted rather soothingly over the back of his head.

Coulson gasped awake, laying flat on his back with his fingers gripping his sheets and his dick straining against his underwear.

He really need to stop listening to his albums before falling asleep.  
  


**... ...**  
  


“I think I may need to take a few days.” Coulson announced in the office late that morning. Jeffrey looked confused, then briefly worried.

“Is everything all right?”

_All right, ah, do it, do it_

“Fine.” Coulson assured, his tone not so assuring as he failed to stop thinking of his most recent dream. This has been escalating instead of disappearing and Coulson knew as soon as he’d walked into the office today that he needed to take a break. He needed to get away from Jeffrey for a while. “Just feeling a little strung out. Need a bit of a breather away from HQ.”

He tried to sound apologetic about it, but he was desperate.

“I have a meeting with the President in Nevada at the end of the week; you could come with, spend the time sight-seeing while I’m sitting in.” Jeffrey offered.

“Sight-seeing what, exactly? Area 51?” Coulson teased, raising his eyebrow, hiding his internal panic at the thought of traveling with Jeffrey. That sounded like the opposite of what he needed.

“I’m serious. There’s all kinds of kitschy alien do-dads around there, and don’t even try to pretend — I know you get a hard-on for that kind of stuff.”

Coulson stared at him, honestly not sure what to comment on first. Jeffrey grimaced a little.

“Okay, sorry for my phrasing, but you know what I mean — and look, I promise I won’t make you work while you’re there. Think of it as free vacation travel!”

Kitschy alien stuff did actually pique Coulson’s interest, but getting away from the Triskelion and everyone else, _with_ Jeffrey, was exactly the kind of thing he wanted to _avoid_.

“That sounds great, actually.” Whether it was to his heart or his dick, his brain had lost the fight for control of his mouth.

Jeffrey beamed, and nodded as he picked up his phone.

“Let me tell Agent Burrows we’ll have another body on the flight,” He said, looking far too pleased.

Coulson resigned himself to his fate as he felt his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Jeffrey might have some ulterior motive in this — and he also wondered if that were merely just himself projecting what he _wanted_  to see in the situation.

In any case, he figured he’d find out by the end of the week. Until then, maybe he should take up Daisy's offer and start doing yoga or something.  
  


**———**

 

As it turned out, Coulson found out quite a lot of things not long after they landed in Lincoln County.

As soon as they stepped off the plane, a handful of tactical vehicles screeched onto the tarmac and men in kevlar poured out, weapons in hand.

"We're here for the Director! Give him to us and we'll only wound you a little bit." One of the men called out, and his buddies smirked in amusement.

"You touch him and I'll kill you," Jeffrey threatened seriously, and Coulson glanced at him in surprise. They weren't exactly in any position to be saying things like that; even if the pilots became aware of the situation, they'd still be outmanned.

The man who'd spoken lifted his weapon and cocked the chamber, checking that it was ready to fire.

Before Coulson could whisper anything in suggestion to Jeffrey, Jeffrey pushed him to the ground and grabbed onto the pallet of weapons they'd been transporting, dragging it over to better provide them cover.

The extremely heavy pallet of weapons.

Coulson gaped at Jeffrey as he ducked behind the pallet with him, curling up and holding his hands protectively over his head as bullets pinged around them.

"What was - !" Coulson started to yell, but then the men attacking them started shouting and their bullets changed direction.

"It's Cap! Shit!"

Jeffrey's hands were obviously shaking, but he turned and darted his head above the pallet, trying to figure out the situation.

"Are you crazy?!" Coulson exclaimed, yanking him back down. He pushed Coulson off of him, and then darted from cover, scrambling back up the ramp into the plane. "Jeffrey!" Coulson shouted after him, then cursed when he'd called some attention back toward him.

As he ducked back behind the pallet, he stared wide-eyed as another pallet suddenly came flying out of the plane, taking out a group of the bad guys like they were bowling pins.

Steve Rogers took care of a few others before the remaining managed to get back into their cars and hightailed it out of there.

Coulson sat behind the pallet for a few moments, trying to fathom what he'd just seen. Steve reached out to give him a hand up.

"Good to see you, Agent Coulson. I didn't know you were on transport." He raised his eyebrow as the Director hesitantly strode back down the ramp and onto the tarmac. "What'd you do wrong?" He joked.

Coulson turned his head slowly toward Jeffrey, staring at him wide-eyed.

"Nice job, Patriot." Steve smirked, clasping Jeffrey's shoulder. Jeffrey hesitantly smiled and laughed awkwardly, not quite meeting either of their gazes. "Let's get this stuff out of here before they send reinforcements." Steve gestured his hand in the air, and a few Army soldiers poured out of the building, some of them with guns drawn protecting their teammates while the others focused on securing the crates.

"Was that Hydra?" Jeffrey wondered, and Steve nodded worriedly.

"I'm not sure how they knew to be here. We should get you inside immediately."

They focused on getting inside of the airport building, but as soon as they were standing at the gate, Coulson grabbed onto Jeffrey's arm.

"We need to talk," He said seriously, holding him back as Steve walked ahead to meet up with a group of soldiers.

“I’m sorry that I kept this from you,” Jeffrey apologized intently, his eyes pleading with Coulson.

They weren’t even really anything more then friends, but Coulson felt heartbroken. Jeffrey had _powers_? He was Inhuman? Why had he been hiding it? What was the goal here? _Was_  he merely a government pawn? Coulson felt betrayed.

“Believe me, Phil, I never wanted to keep this from you! I wanted to tell you, but Talbot advised me against it,”

“Advised?” Coulson repeated, his tone strangled as his mind whirled and his chest felt tight.

“He threatened, actually.” Jeffrey admitted quietly. He glanced at Coulson briefly before dropping his gaze toward his feet. “He threatened you.”

“Talbot threatened me?” Coulson wondered incredulously. Sure they sassed one another, but they weren’t enemies. The thought of Talbot threatening his well-being didn’t sit right.

“It actually ran a little higher up than that.”

“Talbot’s boss? Threatened me by name? How in the world do they even know who I am?” Coulson asked, and Jeffrey looked even further uncomfortable.

“That’s my fault... I — I’m very grateful for all the help and support you’ve provided for me, and...” Jeffrey was blushing. Coulson raised his eyebrow. “They know how important you are to me.” Quickly he added, “To SHIELD.”

Coulson desperately wanted clarification on that, but he had some other questions he wanted answered, first.

“How long have you been an Inhuman? Director Fury and I once discussed having an Inhuman as Director of SHIELD — is that why you were brought on? From the get-go? Because if that’s the case, then why have you been hiding it?”

“It’s... not exactly...”

“Don’t you dare use ‘its classified’ on me.” Coulson warned. “You’re the one who upgraded my clearance level so that I could help you with tactical decisions.”

“There are still things out of your security level,” Jeffrey argued lamely.

“Bullshit.” Coulson returned. “Tell me the truth, Jeffrey. If my expertise really means that much to you, then no more lies.”

Jeffrey sat down slowly into one of the terminal seats, and gestured toward the seat across from him. He glanced over to where Burrows was having a conversation with Steve and the agents that had been flying the jet.

“This stays between you and me, got it?”

Dread pooled in Coulson’s stomach, and he leaned forward in his seat, giving Jeffrey a warning look.

“That phrase never bodes well,”

“They turned me into an Inhuman.”

“Shit. What does that even mean?”

“You’re right, in that the government agreed an Inhuman leader of SHIELD would be great for relations,”

“So instead of vetting _actual_  Inhumans, they just _created_  one that they knew they could control?” Coulson cursed again. This was exactly what Fury had warned him about.

“They don’t control me.” Jeffrey put in sharply, and Coulson looked at him in surprise at his tone. “Sure, there are lines I have to toe to keep SHIELD on the good side of the press, but I’m not a puppet.” Jeffrey leaned forward as well. “I really do believe that Inhumans deserve the same rights as anyone else in this country! When Talbot’s team approached me after Vienna, they offered me what I saw as an opportunity to be an ally for people I care about. The Patriot Project.”

“Patriot... Captain Rogers called you that. So he knows about it? Why keep your powers a secret?” Coulson asked again.

“They wanted...” He trailed off and leaned back against his chair, chagrined. “They wanted to orchestrate a reveal. Once the public comes to approve of me and what I’m doing with SHIELD, choreograph some kind of heroic moment where I do my thing and it turns out they’ve been approving of an Inhuman all along. Rogers knows because... he was aware of the whole project. Advised a bit, on it.”

“Sounds like puppetry to me.” Coulson muttered. “Is that what this was?” He gestured toward the tarmac outside, where a few agents were hauling unconscious bodies of Hydra members into the jet to take back to base for questioning. “Was this your big event?”

“No.” Jeffrey shook his head, looking a little harried now. “This was leaked intel. Hydra somehow found out that I would be landing here, and attacked.”

“So how did this Patriot Project happen? How did they ‘turn you into’ an Inhuman?”

“I had no idea about the sleeping gene. Turns out, they’d been digging into my medical history between Vienna and the day they called me up. They guessed at it before I had any clue, and put me through testing to make sure.” He grimaced. “They didn’t want to accidentally kill me, after all. I was already something of a public figure.”

“Why in the world would you put yourself through that?” Coulson asked quietly, imagining the kind of testing they performed on him.

“In Vienna, everyone misunderstood my heroism... I wasn’t a hero. I was selfish, a coward.” He clasped his hands together between his knees and stared at his feet. “After the bomb I was so disoriented. I just wanted to get out of there. I tripped and fell, and... someone snapped a photo. It looked like I was protecting an injured woman from falling rubble.” He was quiet for a few beats. “I didn’t even know that she was there.”

“So The Hero of Vienna...”

“Classic media twisting incorrect assumptions.” Jeffrey sighed heavily. “So when I was approached about the Patriot Project, I jumped on it. I could live up to being the hero that everybody thought I was. I can do better as the Patriot than just as myself.” He met Coulson’s eyes again. “The government just _thinks_  that they own me. They don’t. I believe in SHIELD, Phil,  _your_  SHIELD.”

Coulson admired that, and was empathetic with Jeffrey’s side of things, but he was still feeling hurt. Plus...

“The foundation can’t be built on lies, though.” Coulson shook his head. “You have to hold a conference in-house. Let your agents know the truth.”

Jeffrey’s eyes grew wide and he leaned forward again. Coulson could tell that he was worried about the reception. Revealing his secret to the whole world at once was in some ways easier than revealing it to those he felt closest to.

“Contrary to how you’ve been managing so far — which is frankly miraculous, by the way — You can’t keep super strength a secret forever. Especially once you start training.”

“Woah, wait a minute,”

“If you really care about SHIELD’s purpose, then you’re going to listen to me on this.” Coulson told him seriously. “You hired me to talk tactics and that’s what this is. We keep doing everything the way we have been these past few months — I’d like to think that’s been going well — but when it comes to the Patriot, the only thing you’re in charge of is the optics.”

“The Patriot is _me_ ,” Jeffrey pointed out.

“Exactly. I know you well enough by now that I believe this story is genuine. But Jeffrey, your desire to be a hero is both your strength and a fault. If you really want to help SHIELD, help Inhuman relations, then from now on I’m calling the shots. I’m the one deciding when and where the Patriot is appropriate. And most importantly, you’re going to start training seriously, hand-to-hand, combat readiness drills, the whole works.”

“What?” Jeffrey asked dumbly.

“Combat training. Situational testing. Brute force doesn’t always get the job done, Jeffrey — I saw you panicking once the guns started firing and Hydra had flanked us.”

“I just — ”

“I’m not blaming you; that’s on the team that didn’t give you any real training in the first place. But if I’m in the field with you and you panic like that again, I _will_  be blaming you then.”

Jeffrey looked at Coulson earnestly, and nodded.

“So... you won’t tell anyone?” He asked carefully.

“I will give you time to prepare what you’re going to say to the team. But don’t take too long with that, because I won’t wait forever. And once that’s dealt with, you’re speaking to the rest of SHIELD. They all deserve to know who they’re working for. ...And I suppose Fury is aware of all of this?”

“Yes,” Jeffrey nodded apologetically, “Talbot cleared it with Fury before Fury announced me as his successor.”

“Hm.” Coulson huffed, not really liking the secrets. He understood the need for confidentiality, to a point, but this was huge. If the press ever found out that SHIELD itself had been unaware of its Director.... SHIELD couldn’t handle that kind of negative media again, not so soon after the Hydra mess.

“Phil,” Jeffrey murmured, reaching forward to rest his hand overtop of Coulson’s. Coulson stared at that. “Please, forgive me. Please tell me that I haven’t lost your faith in me.”

Coulson looked up into wide, earnest, blue eyes.

“You have to make this right.” He murmured, and Jeffrey nodded emphatically. Coulson then twisted one of his hands to hold Jeffrey’s palm between his own. It was a fairly intimate gesture, but it felt right. “I still see you.” He promised softly. Jeffrey looked so pleased and grateful that Coulson’s chest ached again.

They smiled carefully at one another.

“Sir, our ride is here. Ready to go?” Burrows approached them warily, and Coulson looked over to see him eyeing them. Coulson let go of Jeffrey’s hand and stood, acting nonplussed as he gave Burrows a nod and slung his small duffel bag onto his shoulder.

“Sure, yeah, let’s go.” Jeffrey verbally stumbled for a moment, cleared his throat, then stood as well.

This trip was going to be interesting.  
  


**———**

 

Jeffrey was on the mats, on his knees, hair and skin slick with sweat. Coulson was perspiring, too, catching his breath as he stood with his hands on his hips. Jeffrey looked pleadingly up at Coulson.

“Please, I want to apologize... I want to thank you for everything you’ve been doing to help me.” Jeffrey inched closer on his knees, grasping Coulson’s calves when he was within reaching distance.

“You’re supposed to be training, Jeffrey.” Coulson sighed, though standing still as Jeffrey slid his hands slowly up the backs of his knees, up beneath the edges of his shorts.

“This is training,” Jeffrey reasoned, his eyes wide with mock-innocence. “Training my knowledge of your body.” He pressed his palms upward along Coulson’s thighs until his hands were curved around his butt, and he tugged suddenly, causing Coulson to stumble forward and his crotch to press into Jeffrey’s face. Jeffrey nuzzled him, his eyes closed as he rubbed his nose and cheek over Coulson’s groin.

“ _Jeff_ ,” Coulson hissed in warning, lowering his hands from his hips. He didn’t push Jeffrey away, though. Jeffrey squeezed his butt gently, continuing to rub over him until he was achingly hard and leaking. “Jeff,” Coulson sighed more softly, touching his fingers against Jeffrey’s hair. Jeffrey smiled, and then opened his mouth over the bulge in Coulson’s shorts.  
  
  
**... ...**  
  


“Fuck!” Coulson cursed as he awoke, annoyed with himself. His hand was cupped over his groin, clearly having been mimicking his subconscious version of Jeffrey Mace. He threw the sheets off of his legs with a frustrated yank, and got to his feet, digging through his duffel bag for his workout clothes. After everything that had happened yesterday, now was not the time for Coulson to be crushing on his boss.

He changed quickly and grabbed his keycard and his iPod, stuffing the earpieces into his ears without bothering to check what time it was. He didn't really care of it ended up being four in the morning; he was full of pent-up energy and he needed a source of release _other_  than what his subconscious wanted to provide him.

The hotel gym was blissfully empty when he entered, so he took his time stretching and doing a little light weightlifting before moving toward the treadmill. He closed his eyes as he lost himself in his music and the rhythm of his feet on the machine.

It was another fifteen or twenty minutes before the clank of weights startled him back into awareness, and Coulson slowed the speed of the treadmill to begin cooling down as he glanced around behind him. He had to grab onto the handholds as his feet stumbled underneath him, just barely managing to keep from falling flat on his face.

Fate hated him.

Jeffrey was sitting with his back to him at the pull-down machine, his hands curled around the bar in a wide grip. Coulson couldn't tell how much weight he was using, but the way his back and arms flexed as he moved made Coulson's heart race more than his own workout had done. He was as dressed down as Coulson had ever seen him, wearing only sneakers and basketball shorts, and Coulson couldn't stop staring at the line of his back.

The treadmill drifted to a stop and Coulson stepped off of it half-dazed, completely overwhelmed by all that bare, shining skin in front of him. Jeffrey was sweating like he'd been here for a little while, and Coulson wondered if he'd said anything in greeting when he'd first entered. With his music still blaring in his ears, he would've completely missed it anyway.

Jeffrey let the weights settle with a clunk, his arms stretched above him as he held onto the bar for a moment and caught his breath. Coulson froze behind him, suddenly too aware of himself and the situation. His entire body was throbbing.

There were mirrors on the wall in front of the machines on this side of the room, and Jeffrey's eyes met Coulson's through the reflection. Jeffrey's expression was unreadable, but Coulson's was obvious.

Jeffrey's mouth parted, but before he could say anything, Coulson turned on his heel and left the gym. His hands shook as he fervently pressed the elevator buttons, his mind playing over and over the dips and curves of muscle and what it might feel like beneath his fingers. His tongue felt dry, aching to taste sweaty skin, and he barely managed to contain his moan of dismay as he rested his head against the wall of the elevator, impatient to reach his floor and the safety of his room.

He was embarrassingly hard, and it was just as obvious now as it had been downstairs in the gym.  
  


**———**

 

Coulson didn't see Jeffrey for a full day and a half after the run-in at the gym, for which he was immensely grateful. The weekend was over, though, and it was time to head back to the airport. The short vacation had otherwise been enjoyable, so Coulson didn't see it as all bad. He wasn't exactly looking forward to looking Jeffrey in the eye again after basically running away from him earlier, but Coulson was a professional. He could handle this.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror one last time, smoothing his hand over the back of his hair before sighing in derision at himself and hoisting his duffel bag in hand. It was time to meet Jeffrey and Agent Burrows in the hotel lobby.

"Phillip!" Jeffrey smiled widely upon seeing him, as if they hadn't seen one another in months. "You look well-rested! I hope the little break helped you out."

It was as if nothing had happened. Maybe he _hadn't_  noticed how aroused Coulson had been that day?

"It was great, thank you." Coulson replied politely, smiling a little in return. Whether or not Jeffrey was pretending that nothing at all was amiss, Coulson would follow suit.

When they were all settled in the QuinJet and airborne once more, Jeffrey announced,

"I think it's time I return you to your team."

"What?" Coulson didn't follow at first.

"You're an asset in the field, Phil, and it would be remiss of me to continue keeping you tied to all the bureaucracy of things. Once we get back to HQ I'll sign through the paperwork to put you back with your team."

"What about - "

"As we discussed previously," Jeffrey interrupted easily, "you'll still help me with tactics. And I'll probably need some guidance as far as my own training goes... information on who's the best instructor for what skill, that sort of thing. But your primary focus should be your team, and your work on the ground."

Coulson was deeply relieved, but there was also a part of him that was disappointed. He wouldn't be seeing as much of Jeffrey anymore, in this case, and he should be entirely happy about that. Freedom from this overwhelming crush that he was practically drowning in at this point. However, he couldn't help but also feel like this was a loss.

"Alright." Coulson said. "Thank you."

Jeffrey pursed his lips, as if he'd expected more argument and was disappointed to find otherwise, but then he turned his face toward the window, and the conversation was sufficiently ended.  
  


**———**

 

 _Told me to go away, then you came crawling back_  
_There'll be no compromise, my words are all you have_  
_Hide the truth, I'm telling you, they won't know a thing_  
_Oh, hide the truth I'm telling you, it's worth it_  
_Don't say a word, no don't tell another_  
_Just one little white lie won't hurt you_  
_Keep it a secret and you'll feel better_  
_No one has to know_

"Coulson? Hey - Coulson." Clint called out, jarring Coulson from sleep. He opened his eyes to find the archer staring down at him, one eyebrow raised curiously and a smirk on his face.

"What?" Coulson grumbled, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard of the hotel bed. He noted Natasha sitting at the table by the window, eating breakfast that they had apparently ordered while Coulson had been asleep.

"You didn't used to talk in your sleep, you know." Natasha commented, her focus still toward her food. Coulson furrowed his brow at her, although she wasn't looking at him.

"I don't talk in my sleep."

"Yes, you do," Clint chuckled, taking a step away from Coulson's bed and casually folding his arms across his chest. "Not whole sentences, but, we definitely heard you talking this morning."

"What was I saying?" Coulson challenged, and Clint's grin widened. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"You were moaning about want and need and that was when I dragged Clint out of here and we went to go get breakfast." Natasha answered with a bored huff.

"I wanted details, but she wouldn't let me talk to you." Clint pouted. Coulson scowled at him, and got to his feet.

"It was just a dream," He rolled his eyes, slipping around Clint and heading for the bathroom.

"You sure? Sounded pretty intense." Clint followed him to the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the doorjamb. Coulson gave him a look.

"It was nothing." Coulson responded, closing the door between them.

But it wasn't nothing. If he really was sleep-talking, he needed to pull himself together, before he might accidentally give away something confidential.

Or reveal just how head-over-heels he was about his boss.  
  


**... ...**  
  


"Sitrep?" Jeffrey requested as soon as Coulson answered his call. He was sitting outside of a busy coffeeshop in Budapest XIII, easily hiding amongst the locals and the tourists in a simple polo and shorts. Thankfully it was a sunny day, so he could keep his sunglasses on without drawing suspicion.

Budapest wasn't necessarily the safest place for the three of them, even still.

"Seems our old friends have played it smart and stayed away since the last time we were here," Coulson explained, talking of the Hydra group he, Clint, and Natasha had ousted a handful of years ago.

"And our new friends?" Jeffrey prodded.

"Possibly have tried to commandeer old resources, but the team is working on that as we speak." Coulson replied easily. A waiter came by with his refresher coffee, and he nodded his thanks as he accepted the mug.

"I don't hear any gunfire or screaming." Jeffrey mentioned dryly, and Coulson smirked.

"I warned them to play it quieter this time around. Local authorities aren't exactly our best friends."

"I know. I was on the phone with the prime minister's office for three hours yesterday, after they somehow got wind that you all were inside the border. If you guys so much as sneeze too loudly, you'll be completely blacklisted. As it is, I suggest keeping with the low profile. I imagine they would love any excuse to detain you." He sounded annoyed, and Coulson inwardly grimaced.

"How did they find out we were here?" He wondered, thinking over his steps the last two days.

"Agent Barton - "

"Figures." Coulson muttered, not really needing to hear anything else, and Jeffrey laughed. Coulson's heart warmed at the sound, but then his eyes caught quick movement along the sidewalk just ahead; someone was slipping in and out of the crowd in a hurry. Two someone's. Coulson sighed. "I need to go."

"Threat?" Jeffrey asked quickly, worry leaking into his tone. Coulson furrowed his brow slightly; if Jeffrey worried like that over all of his agents, he'd have ulcers up to his eyeballs.

Coulson focused on his partners' faces when there was a break in the crowd around them. Clint looked harried but excited, and Natasha looked pissed. Coulson sighed once again, and drank a few big mouthfuls of his coffee before getting to his feet.

"I'll have to get back to you on that. I'll call when we're secure." He assured. As he pulled the phone from his ear to hang up, he heard,

"Be safe, Phil."

He tried not to dwell on how pleased that made him, and slipped the phone into his pocket, stepping onto the sidewalk just as Clint and Natasha neared him. They slowed to a normal walking pace, not looking at him as they spoke,

"Here," Natasha pushed something into Coulson's hand, and he barely registered that it was a cell phone before he was already tucking it into his pocket. "We nicked it from one of the Watchdog operatives. Butterfingers here got caught though, so we'll meet you back at the hotel after we lose him." She spoke quickly, ignoring Clint's affronted expression at her nickname.

"Hey, I - !" He began to protest, but she tugged on his arm, giving Coulson a look as the two checked for traffic before quickly crossing the street.

Coulson kept walking as if he noticed none of this, his steps casual even as he noted pounding footsteps behind him. Just one man, probably the owner of the phone. He brushed by Coulson without hesitation, having no reason to suspect him of being involved in the situation. As Coulson waited at the street corner to cross the block, he watched as the guy caught up with Clint and yanked him around to face him.

Clint was clearly protesting his innocence as Natasha stepped back from them and looked frightened. Clint patted his pockets and emptied them, showing the man that the only thing he had was his own phone and wallet. The Watchdog member clearly was still suspicious, and turned toward Natasha. She quickly, with fumbling hands and everything, opened her clutch and tilted it toward him to show him the contents. He visibly grimaced, and shook his head, stepping away from the agents.

Clint suggested something, and pointed in the direction that they had come. The man nodded, apologized, and then hurried off again. Clint grinned at Natasha, and she smacked him aside the back of his head.

Coulson smirked to himself as the light changed and he headed on toward the hotel, looking forward to getting this phone to Daisy and seeing what she could pull from it.  
  


**———**

 

 _Is that a jukebox altar call?_  
_Or just a soft smokey place to fall_  
_I'm thinking I might be tempted to slide on over (slide on over)_  
_I'm thinking I need a little something to tide me over (tide me over)_  
_Cuz the king knows how_  
_To take me all the way_  
_Yeah the king knows how_  
_To take me all the way_

 _You strike a match, boy, but do you know how_  
_To burn it all the way down_

The meeting with the local city council had gone well, the Director's meet and greet with some of the locals had gone well, and now all they needed was dinner, sleep, and to get on the plane back to HQ in the morning.

Coulson blamed Clint for jinxing them.

"It's been a while since I've had such an easy job!" Clint grinned widely as he tapped his glass of beer against Coulson's. Coulson rolled his eyes but smiled, equally as pleased, especially after the stress of needing to return to Budapest. That one had ended up going fairly well, also, but Coulson had still spent a lot of time pre-planning for just about any contingency.

"That's because you tend to attract trouble like white on rice," Jeffrey drawled, sitting across from them. They'd decided to hit the pub for dinner before heading back to their hotel rooms; scoping out a restaurant that had an event going on so they could more easily hide amongst the crowd.

Unfortunately, it was only a few minutes after this comment that there was a commotion near the front door. Coulson and Clint tensed up immediately, their ears tuning out everything else in an attempt to gauge if it was a threat or not.

"I saw him walk in here! He's an Inhuman sympathizer, and if you're serving him, then you are too! Where is he? He doesn't belong here..."

Coulson had heard enough. He nudged Clint to move out of the booth, and once they were both standing he reached for Jeffrey's arm and hauled him to his feet.

"Wait, maybe I should hear him out, maybe he just needs a dialogue," Jeffrey figured, but Coulson only tightened his grip on the Director's arm.

"The guy is six-foot-eight and looks like he should take up wrestling. Also, he's definitely packing heat. No, I don't think a dialogue is a good idea." Clint observed with his sharp eyes, and Coulson guided Jeffrey in front of him and pushed him toward the back door that he'd already noted the moment they'd entered the pub.

"Damn it, I didn't even finish my beer." Jeffrey complained under his breath, but moved to the door under Coulson's guidance.

"Let's step it up," Clint urged at Coulson's back, helping them get through the crowd of people around the bar, staring up at the game on the multiple tv's in the room. They seemed oblivious to what was going on around them. "He's pushed passed the servers at the front."

Someone scored on the television, and it must've been a good thing, because cheers erupted around them. Customers were even turning and slapping Coulson's shoulder excitedly, and he ignored them as he kept his eye on the exit door.

The three men stumbled out into the back alley, the darkness and quieter atmosphere a little jarring.

"He'd have seen the door open. You still carry around the pack of smokes?" Coulson asked Clint, who nodded and furrowed his brow.

"I know you think everything can be used as a weapon, but, cigarettes?" Clint questioned, although he still reached for the container inside of his suit jacket. He and Coulson had posed as Jeffrey's bodyguards, so they were both dressed in nondescript black suits and could easily disappear among the rest of the after-work business crowd. Jeffrey's suit was obviously much nicer, and while the angry guy coming after them might not know the difference, he would still easily recognize the face.

"Smoke break." Coulson clarified, looking at Clint like he was slow. He gestured his head a few feet to the right of the door. "Over there. He'll just think it was you stepping out and head back inside."

"And you?" Clint questioned, pulling the lighter from his pocket and tucking the cigarette between his lips.

Coulson briefly gave Jeffrey a searching look. Humans were stereotypical, and he knew exactly what would deter the guy from focusing too hard on them.

"Don't worry about us," Coulson assured Clint, and then grabbed onto Jeffrey's wrists and pushed him toward one of the darker sections in the alley, pushing him face-first against the brick wall.

"What, you gonna pretend to rob me?" Jeffrey wondered incredulously, and Coulson lifted his wrists up above his head, holding his hands against the wall with one hand and wrapping his other arm around Jeffrey's chest.

"No." He kicked Jeffrey's feet apart slightly and pressed his body against Jeffrey's back, parting his lips against the nape of his neck.

"Phil?" Jeffrey hissed in surprise, his arms jerking in Coulson's grip. Coulson held him firmly though, noting curiously that Jeffrey hadn't used his super-strength to get away, and also grateful for that since the back door to the pub slammed open again just then.

"Quiet," Coulson hissed against Jeffrey's ear before putting his mouth on his neck again, his teeth scraping skin. Jeffrey shivered, and Coulson forced himself to step outside of himself for a moment. This wasn't Jeffrey, this wasn't anything, it was work. It meant nothing.

"Hey!" The big guy called out toward Clint, and Coulson turned his head slightly to keep an eye on things, even as he shifted his hips against Jeffrey's ass. Clint was leaning against the wall lazily, his ankles crossed and one hand stuffed in his pocket as the other tugged the lit cigarette from his mouth.

"What?" He asked in an annoyed, bored tone. "I'm on a break." Coulson was pleased to note that he'd ditched his jacket somewhere, so with the button-up and tie he could pass as a waiter.

"Where did he go? That government director guy. The Inhuman-lover." The man demanded.

"The Director of SHIELD? Dude, I haven't seen that guy since he was on the tv earlier today." Clint replied in a bored tone.

"He had to have come out this door! You couldn't miss him. Did you see _anybody_  come out here?" He only sounded more frustrated, and stepped further toward the back of the alley, toward the shadows where Coulson and Jeffrey were hiding their faces. Just as the man visibly tensed up, Coulson tucked his face back into Jeffrey's neck and leisurely rolled his hips again.

Jeffrey let out a muffled grunt, and sucked in a breath of air, his cheek pressed against the brick with his face turned away from the commotion at the other end of the alley.

"Just those two necking. I think they're drunk." Clint answered in that same bored tone.

Just as Coulson had expected, the man made a disgusted scoffing noise, and stepped away from them.

"Fags." He grumbled under his breath as if he were personally affronted. Jeffrey's heart was pounding in his chest beneath Coulson's hand, and Coulson, as much as he tried to distance himself from the situation, still found himself growing hard against Jeffrey. Fuck, this was a mess - but at least the guy had caught the bait and was leaving them alone.

"Excuse me?" Clint asked testily, and Coulson closed his eyes at that tone of voice.

"Shit," He breathed out, and slowly turned his head to face the other two men again, keeping himself pressed against Jeffrey's back. He didn't want the guy to think he'd caught their attention and give him any reason to look at them any closer. Jeffrey was surprisingly incredibly still, leaning against the wall.

"Disgusting." The man spat out, and turned away from the door to the pub to favor heading out toward the street. "That ain't right - "

"It's the twenty-first century, asshole! People are gay!" Clint argued as if the guy was an idiot, and Coulson groaned in annoyance and removed his hand from Jeffrey's chest to press it against the brick, using his arm to hide the Director's face when he turned to watch what was happening.

"What is he doing?!" Jeffrey hissed in concern.

"Sh!" Coulson ordered shortly. "Don't react."

"What did you call me?"

"He's going to get himself hurt." Jeffrey murmured.

"It wouldn't be the first time." Coulson replied dryly.

"I called you an asshole, Asshole."

With surprising speed, the large man was within reaching distance of Clint and punched him square in the mouth, knocking him half over and the cigarette out of his mouth. Clint chuckled softly, and touched his hand against his bleeding nose as he slowly straightened up.

"He did throw the first punch." Clint reasoned toward his two co-workers without even looking toward them, and then in four moves had returned the favor of a broken nose and had the guy groaning in pain on his back.

At this point, Coulson had stepped away from Jeffrey and watched with dismay. Jeffrey had half-turned to watch as well, still leaning his shoulder against the wall.

"And if you even think about landing me with an assault charge," Clint threatened lowly, leaning over the prone man, "I'll make sure they know how you first accosted not only me but two other men as well... and I'll make sure all your bigoted buddies know how you got your ass kicked by a bisexual half your size."

"Fuck," The man on the ground groaned. Satisfied, Clint straightened, and turned to look toward Coulson and Jeffrey. Coulson sent him an infinitesimal nod, and grabbed Jeffrey's elbow.

"Come on. He'll meet us at the hotel." Coulson murmured quietly, and guided Jeffrey in the opposite direction as Clint turned and quickly headed toward the street. Blood was still dripping from his nose and all over his shirt, but Coulson knew he could talk his way out of anything.

"How did you know he would take the bait like that?" Jeffrey wondered breathlessly as he struggled to keep up with Coulson's grip on his arm.

"Hateful people tend to find as many outlets as possible for their hate." Coulson commented. When they reached the sidewalk and slipped into the crowd, he let go of Jeffrey and slowed their gait. He called for the next empty taxi that drove by, and practically pushed Jeffrey inside and didn't wait before following him in. He gave the driver the address to their hotel, and the two men finally breathed.

The ride was awkwardly quiet, and Coulson was painfully aware of the erection in his trousers. He knew that there was no way Jeffrey hadn't felt it, and he hoped the man would just let it slide as an uncontrollable reaction to the situation. He glanced over warily, and Jeffrey was looking down at his hands resting in his lap, his fingers rubbing lightly against his wrists.

It wasn't until they were both in the elevator and headed up to their floor that the silence between them was finally broken.

"I'm sorry." Coulson apologized, his eyes on the closed door in front of them. From the corner of his eye he could see Jeffrey touch his wrists again.

"It's okay, I'll be fine." Jeffrey quickly assured him. "I'd be more worried about Barton's nose."

"It's not the first time it's been broken. I'll check that it's set properly once he gets back." Coulson promised him. He and Clint were sharing a room with two twin beds, next door to Jeffrey's.

"Of course," Jeffrey's short laugh sounded odd. "I'm sure you're used to taking care of him by now." Coulson furrowed his brow slightly. His comment was odd, too.

"Are you alright?" Coulson asked sincerely.

"Don't worry about me." Jeffrey replied easily, though Coulson noted the way his fingers clenched into fists by his sides.

Fuck. They might have avoided a potentially dangerous situation, but Coulson had made things probably even worse.

"I'll see you in the morning. Thanks." Jeffrey told him as soon as the doors started to open, and slipped out into the hall. Coulson hesitated until the doors started to close again, and then reached out to set off the sensor and make them open again. When he stepped out and reached the corner of their hall, Jeffrey had already disappeared inside of his room.

Coulson sighed heavily.

"Fuck."  
  


**... ...**  
  


_-JM: Are you awake?_  
_-PC: Y. Threat?_  
_-JM: No. Need 2 discuss smthg w/ you. B4 mrng._  
_-PC: Ok._

Coulson tucked his Icer in the back of his sleep shorts anyway, just in case that there was some sort of danger and Jeffrey was being coerced, and then slipped quietly from his hotel room.

Jeffrey answered his light knock immediately, stepping to the side when Coulson entered the room with his gun drawn and checking the corners.

"I told you there wasn't a threat," Jeffrey told him with mild dismay as Coulson didn't relax until after he'd checked the bathroom and behind the shower curtain.

"A threat would've forced you to say that." Coulson pointed out, but set the safety on his weapon and placed it atop the dresser by the bathroom door. "So. What's up?" He figured there was some kind of time-sensitive confidential information that Clint didn't have the clearance to hear. Jeffrey suddenly looked nervous, and scratched at his brow. That was his biggest tell, and Coulson narrowed his eyes slightly. "Is something wrong?"

"I haven't slept." Jeffrey admitted, and Coulson glanced at the alarm clock by his bed, forcing himself not to stare at the bundled sheets. It seemed that he'd been rolling around, unable to get comfortable.

"It's only been a couple of hours since we got back. Adrenalin can be a doozy that way." Coulson commiserated. He'd long ago learned how to sleep after missions that were far more chaotic than this one; tonight he was awake because he'd simply been distracted.

"I can't stop thinking about it." Jeffrey replied quietly, his eyes darting toward the floor as if he were ashamed of himself.

"The asshole at the pub? He can't have been the first bigoted person you've run into." Coulson wondered, and Jeffrey shook his head.

"Not him, specifically. Just... what happened because of him." Jeffrey half-clarified, glancing back up toward Coulson.

"I'm sorry," Coulson realized what he was talking about, and grimaced. "I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I didn't... I mean, that's certainly not the first time I've had to make out with somebody to hide in plain sight from the enemy, but..." Jeffrey seemed surprised at that, and then not, and then something else that was a little sharper. "Well, I'm usually better about controlling myself in those situations."

"That's exactly it," Jeffrey nodded, and Coulson closed his eyes for a moment, mortified with himself. His crush was beyond unprofessional and he'd allowed it to affect his work and now - "You lost control."

Coulson opened his eyes when Jeffrey sounded closer; indeed, he'd taken a step toward him. Coulson frowned, not understanding Jeffrey's expression.

"You were out of control, Phil," Jeffrey started, and Coulson readied himself for the reaming. He'd probably be put on desk-duty for a while for this. Honestly, he half-expected Jeffrey to pull his clearance level, too. It was what he deserved - "And I can't stop thinking about that."

"What?" Coulson blinked, confused.

"I've never seen you out of control before." Jeffrey explained, pacing in front of Coulson a little bit, pushing his hand through the front of his hair nervously. Coulson couldn't help but stare for a moment, rather entranced by the mussed look. "As much as we'd been working together that first year, in all the various situations I've seen you in during both boring bureaucratic meetings and high-stakes missions, I've never seen you lose control in any sense."

"Oh... kay?" Coulson questioned. Jeffrey stopped, and stepped toward him again, well within reaching distance. Coulson froze very still, wondering at the almost jumpy look in Jeffrey's eyes.

"It was..." He bit his lip as he searched for the word, and Coulson's eyes dropped to follow the movement. He was standing too close, but Coulson wasn't strong enough to move away. "Beautiful."

"Beautiful." Coulson repeated, and Jeffrey nodded. He calmed somewhat, and Coulson was stupefied to recognize the look in his eyes now. He'd been wanting to see that expression of arousal in Jeffrey's eyes for so long that now he couldn't half believe that it was really there.

Jeffrey reached for one of Coulson's hands, and guided his fingers around his wrist. The touch jarred Coulson's mind starkly clear.

"I want more of it." Jeffrey informed him decidedly, and Coulson blinked at him again.

"More of _what_?" He wondered incredulously. Jeffrey pressed forward, and Coulson automatically tightened his grip on his wrist, holding him back. Jeffrey smiled slowly, and Coulson realized that was exactly the reaction that Jeffrey had wanted. "Jeffrey," Coulson started, his argument already sounded half-assed before it even really started, and Jeffrey grabbed tightly onto Coulson's t-shirt with his free hand.

"I want to see you completely lose control, Phil. My imagination has been haunting me every second since we left the alley. I want to know what you would have done if the other guys hadn't been there, if it had just been us,"

Logically, Coulson knew that if it had just been them, they wouldn't have been in that situation in the first place. However, neither his heart nor dick liked to follow logic, especially when Jeffrey was involved.

"Every second?" Coulson repeated. "For two or three hours?" Jeffrey nodded, his tongue darting out along his bottom lip. Coulson grabbed for Jeffrey's other wrist, prying his grip off of his shirt and holding his wrists tightly between them. "Try every second for the last _year_ , Jeffrey," Coulson hissed, not angrily, but in a rush of emotion. Jeffrey's eyes widened in surprise, and then darkened exponentially. That was what broke him; what made him completely abandon his self-imposed lines and turn Jeffrey toward the hotel-room door and push him against it almost the same way he'd pushed him against the bricks earlier in the evening.

This time, though, Jeffrey moved his hands up more than Coulson guided him, and turned his head to press his cheek against the door, smiling a little. Challengingly. Coulson tightened his hold on his wrists and stepped close, watching Jeffrey's face curiously as he briefly leaned against his back for a moment. Jeffrey hummed approvingly, and Coulson leaned away.

"You want me to lose control with you? To hold you against the wall and fuck you?" Coulson asked, still mostly amazed by the situation to fall completely into it.

"Hell," Jeffrey breathed out, his pulse already racing. "Yes."

Coulson's blood pounded at that knowledge and he closed his eyes at the rush of hormones that flooded his system. It wouldn't be great to lose his load before they even got started.

"You felt me earlier, didn't you? You felt how hard I was?" Coulson wasn't normally _this_  blatant when it came to dirty talk, but Jeffrey was eating it up and it just spurned him on. Jeffrey nodded quickly, and pushed his ass back against Coulson's pelvis. Coulson was once again amazed by Jeffrey's insistence, and wondered that he'd been daydreaming about Coulson losing control for far much longer than just after today.

Coulson shifted his grip to hold Jeffrey's wrists against the wall with one hand, and pressed his other palm firmly against Jeffrey's lower back, forcing space between them.

"You've thought about this before, haven't you?" Coulson asked, and Jeffrey didn't respond at first. "Haven't you?" He insisted, pressing his fingers a little more firmly into Jeffrey's back. He sucked in a breath and nodded, his body writhing just a little bit beneath Coulson's touch.

"Not exactly this," He managed to say. "But you, yes. I've thought about you."

Coulson was overjoyed by that, but Jeffrey wanted out-of-control Phil and not hopelessly-in-love Phil, so he reward him by stepping forward and nudging his chest and hips against Jeffrey, sliding his hand around to Jeffrey's chest.

"Like what?" Coulson wondered, leaning his head back to see that Jeffrey had closed his eyes. Coulson slowly slid his hand upward, finding Jeffrey's nipple through the soft fabric of his shirt and pinching it briefly. Jeffrey gasped and then blurted,

"Sucking me off!" He swallowed and then added, "Under my desk."

Coulson smirked, soothing his fingertips against Jeffrey's nipple as he contained his own moan at the image. He'd had those dreams too, of course, and the fact it'd been the first thing Jeffrey had blurted out probably meant it was high on his list.

Jeffrey moaned and wriggled his hips, the sound coursing through Coulson's veins and making his cock stiffen further. Jeffrey felt it, of course, and encouraged by it, rolled his hips more firmly. Both of them were wearing sleep shorts that did barely anything to hide Coulson's erection, and Coulson suddenly realized that Jeffrey's were the same kind he'd been wearing in the gym that day.

Coulson admittedly did lose a little control again as he hurriedly yanked at Jeffrey's t-shirt, tugging it up and off of him before tossing it forgotten behind them. Jeffrey kept his hands up and together against the wall even as Coulson let go of him, and Coulson hummed his approval at that as he pressed his palms against Jeffrey's skin. He explored those muscles he'd been dreaming about slowly, taking his time as he trailed his fingers along the line of Jeffrey's back.

Jeffrey arched, pressing his pelvis against the wall in front of him, desperate to relieve some of the pressure building in his body. Coulson curled his hands around his waist and yanked him back, and at his noise of displeasure, he nipped at his shoulder.

"You're so damn gorgeous," Coulson moaned, his mouth and tongue taking over his exploration of Jeffrey's back. He wanted to explore all of Jeffrey with his mouth, but Jeffrey's needy whimpers were getting a little louder.

"Please, Phil, I'm too - I want you. I want you _right now_."

Coulson reached around and dipped his hands beneath the waistband of Jeffrey's shorts, intent on palming him through his underwear but finding nothing but hot skin.

"Shit," Coulson cursed in realization, and Jeffrey moaned against the door as Coulson slid his palm along his length. "You're so hard for me," Coulson teased in amazement, stroking him slowly.

Jeffrey made an indiscernible noise as he leaned heavily against the door, tilting his hips just so as Coulson rubbed against him. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose against Jeffrey's nape, overwhelmed by the smell and feel of him, and he knew he wasn't going to manage to get his pants off before he came. He was throbbing and straining against his shorts, his heart racing as he urgently thrust against Jeffrey's ass.

He grunted as he felt his balls tighten, and bit down on the back of Jeffrey's shoulder a little harder than he intended, trying to muffle himself as he came. Jeffrey chanted 'yes' a couple of times before he came into Coulson's fist, his hips jerking with the force of it.

Eventually, they both finally relaxed, Jeffrey against the wall and Coulson against him. His own shorts stuck uncomfortably against his skin, and he slowly pulled his hand out of Jeffrey's pants, come trailing against his stomach.

"Damn," Jeffrey cursed breathlessly, amazed.

Coulson stepped back, admittedly a little unsteady as the endorphins from his orgasm flooded him, and he looked at his hand curiously, at the come between his fingertips. Jeffrey turned against the wall, leaning back against it as he watched Coulson. His expression was hooded and pleased, and his mouth fell open when Coulson touched his fingers against his tongue.

Logically he knew that come was not necessarily a _pleasant_  taste, but the knowledge that this was what Jeffrey tasted like was overwhelming. He met Jeffrey's gaze, and then lowered his hand.

"I need a shower." He said very calmly. Jeffrey nodded in agreement.

After a half an hour of actually bathing, and lazily exploring one another's bodies, Coulson made Jeffrey come again, his fingers inside of him and his mouth over him.

After that Jeffrey dragged Coulson toward the bed and propped himself up onto a pillow, his gesture very clear. The other pillow he had to stuff between his hands and partially into his mouth as Coulson pounded him into the mattress, until he had no idea where one of them ended and the other began.

When he was aware of the room around him again, his back was wet with sweat and come and they both no doubt needed another shower, but Coulson was carefully tugging the pillow out from beneath him and massaging his fingers into his lower back soothingly. Jeffrey turned his head to face him, and Coulson collapsed onto the mattress next to him, bone-deep exhausted. He was flushed and sweaty, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"Beautiful." Jeffrey murmured, on the edge of unconsciousness.

"Yeah, you are." Coulson replied, smiling softly. They both fell asleep like that, too exhausted to burrow under the sheet and too hot to cuddle together.  
  


**... ...**  
  


When Jeffrey awoke in the morning, Coulson was gone. There was almost no sign that he'd ever been there, other than for the washcloth draped over the edge of the sink that he'd apparently used to clean Jeffrey up while he was still asleep. That, and the whole room smelled of sex. It almost made Jeffrey aroused again.

He quickly got dressed and got out of there, not wanting any excuse for Barton to come into the room and figure out what had happened last night.

When he met the other two downstairs, they were digging into their continental breakfast and chatting amiably. Coulson glanced at him with a simple smile but otherwise continued on talking with Barton, and Jeffrey wondered for a moment if perhaps he had dreamed up Coulson coming into his room and fucking him senseless.

He watched Coulson thoughtfully as he waited for his coffee mug to fill; the man was poised and collected and there was no hint of wild sex anywhere about him.

That only served to make Jeffrey feel a little breathless, and he refocused completely on the coffee machine, quickly pulling himself back together.

"Look at you, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed." Barton grouched as Jeffrey eased into one of the open seats at the table. Everyone knew the man was a grouch before his first full pot of coffee, so Jeffrey didn't hold it against him. "Slept well after our harrowing encounter, I take it." His eyes and nose were mottled with bruising, the splint over the bridge making sure the break healed properly. He looked a mess.

"It was only harrowing on _your_  account." Jeffrey returned, rolling his eyes as he poured a little cream into his mug.

"That's right. _I_  got punched in the face, and _you_  got to make out with Phil." Barton complained, and Jeffrey glanced upward toward Coulson without actually raising his head, spying the man lifting an eyebrow in Barton's direction.

Jeffrey's cheeks burned as he viscerally recalled Coulson's cock inside of him, filling him, making him ache even when he was beyond orgasming again. The memory made his muscles tighten, made him very aware of how empty he physically felt at the moment.

Coulson turned suddenly, looking directly at him as if he could read his mind, and Jeffrey held his breath. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise him if it turned out that Coulson _could_  read minds. Their eye contact was brief, but in the span of that moment Jeffrey was starkly aware of every bruise and mark on his body that hadn't been there the day before.

"Drink your coffee, Clint." Coulson mused, picking up his own mug and turning his gaze toward the television in the corner of the room.

Jeffrey quietly took a deep and slow breath, and was glad that he'd previously put Coulson back on his own team and no longer had to deal with his frequent presence in the office. He wasn't sure he could survive that.  
  


**———**

 

 _It's impossible to navigate around_  
_It's inevitable that you fall in_  
_It's improbable I'll ever come back down_  
_I fell in and now I think I might drown_

Jeffrey huffed out a breath of air as he pushed up on the bar, lifting the weights above him and holding for a moment before lowering the bar back down. He didn't have a spotter, but his agents knew by now that he technically didn't need one. Anyway, it was early enough in the morning that Daisy and May weren't even awake for their usual Tai Chi yet. Jeffrey had made it a habit to hit the gym when he couldn't sleep, and was always careful to time it so that he wouldn't accidentally run into Coulson again.

Even just the thought of the man glistening with sweat made Jeffrey breathless - he wouldn't test that face to face.

"I thought that might be you I heard clanking around in here." Coulson's voice spoke from above, and Jeffrey froze immediately, staring up wide-eyed as Coulson leaned over him from behind his head, smiling down at him. "That's a lot of weight." He noted, looking at the weights on the ends of the bar. "Not holding back today, huh? How many have you done so far?"

"Uh, five or six," Jeffrey answered slowly, and Coulson leaned out of the way and gestured toward him to continue.

"Don't mind me." He mused, and disappeared from Jeffrey's immediate view. Jeffrey hesitated for a moment, but then slowly continued his workout. Maybe they would just ignore one another, and pretend that nothing had irrevocably changed between. Just as usual.

He was about to push the bar up for the tenth time when he felt hands on his knees, sliding up beneath his shorts.

"What -!" He hissed, lifting his head up over the bar where he held it frozen just above his chest. Coulson just smiled at him, pushing his hands up further, sliding his fingers over Jeffrey's underwear.

"I said, don't mind me." Coulson told him, a sharp challenge in his eyes as he pulled his hands out from the legs of Jeffrey's shorts only to unbutton the front and reach inside through the opening, pulling Jeffrey's cock free through his underwear and shorts.

Jeffrey's hands shook and he dropped his head back onto the bench.

"What number were you on?" Coulson asked, casually fondling Jeffrey into hardness.

"Uh... ten." Jeffrey tried to focus. They were in the middle of the gym! There were _cameras_  in here!

"Okay then. Go on, ten," Coulson encouraged, and Jeffrey stared at the ceiling incredulously. "Keep going, or I'll stop." Coulson told him.

"Stopping is exactly what should be happening right now," Jeffrey pointed out, and Coulson squeezed the head of his cock, massaging his fingers around it.

"But you don't want me to." Coulson noted cheekily.

"Fuck." Jeffrey hissed, and shoved the bar upward almost too hard.

"That's it." Coulson praised. "Ten." He stroked his hand down to the base and then Jeffrey felt him spit, soothing the friction between their skin.

"Fuck," Jeffrey moaned the word this time, shakily lowering the bar and pushing it up again, much slower than he had been moving earlier in his workout.

"Eleven." Coulson counted, twisting his fist. Jeffrey gritted his teeth, needing to focus on the weight bar but getting increasingly distracted by Coulson. "Twelve.... thirteen..." Coulson continued to count for him, sounding more and more pleased the more Jeffrey lifted.

Jeffrey was absolutely throbbing by the time he reached twenty, and he wasn't sure he could do another one.

"Phil, Phil please," He gasped, all of his muscles quivering with effort.

"Okay, okay, just one more," Coulson urged and Jeffrey closed his eyes and gathered what strength he had left, pushing the bar upward with a grunt.

Coulson closed his mouth around Jeffrey's cock, sucking on him almost painfully hard as he pressed his thumb up beneath his balls.

Jeffrey came with a surprised shout, just barely managing to drop the bar back on the supports before he curled his body upward toward Coulson, his hands reaching for him even as his body shook with the force of his orgasm.

He stared, open-mouthed and dazed, as his hands landed on nothing.

Coulson wasn't there.

Jeffrey stared down at his crotch, his covered erection pulsing and staining the inside of his shorts. He blurted a noise in dismay and rubbed his hands vigorously over his eyes and face, in disbelief that he'd just _imagined_  all of that. It had felt so real and so good that it only made him more angry, and he snatched his towel off of the floor before stalking out of the gym.  
  


**... ...**  
  


"Hey, Boss?" Daisy knocked lightly on his open office door, and Jeffrey looked up from the file he'd been signing. He closed it and pushed it to the side before indicating she could enter.

"What's up?" He asked, and she looked a little nervous before she turned her tablet toward him, and set it on his desktop. He looked down at it, and the blood drained from his face as he immediately recognized what it was. "Daisy," He quickly looked back up at her, and she reached over to hit the delete button.

"It's the only copy, I promise." She told him, before confirming the permanent delete. Jeffrey relaxed a little at that, but he was mortified that she had seen it. "Does Coulson know?" She asked, and he gave her a sharp look. She raised her eyebrow. "These record sound, too, you know."

He sighed heavily and pressed his fingers against his eyes for a moment. Does Phil know? Does he really know? That was the eternal question.

"Hey," Daisy called for his attention again, speaking soothingly. He lowered his hands and looked at her. "Just... so you know, for future reference I mean, the cameras in the west hall are down."

"What?" He wondered at what she was getting at.

"It's all old building storage down there, so we aren't really focused about getting those cameras fixed, as opposed to more important areas like the labs or the hangar bay. So, you know... if you need to have uh, confidential conversations with Phil, the west hall is the best choice."

"I..." He was touched, and thankful that she wanted to help him. "Daisy, Coulson and I aren't..." She smiled widely, and he trailed off.

"The two of you are so cute!" She cooed, and picked up her tablet, turning and heading back toward the hallway. "Don't worry. I won't tell a soul."

She disappeared around the corner before he could think of a proper argument.

"Fuck." He moaned, covering his face with his hands.  
  


**———**

 

Coulson stopped attending the game nights, and was working off base more often than not lately. Although he was disappointed, and a little hurt, Jeffrey still kept signing off on his missions. Kept defending his work ethic when the others complained that he'd missed another game night.

Daisy always gave him a suspicious look, but true to her word she never brought up his possible relationship or lack thereof with her mentor.

Jeffrey forced himself to keep professional about the whole thing. He may have realized that he was desperately in love, but maybe Coulson only saw it as a fling. A spontaneous one-time thing. Jeffrey would do his best to respect that.

Though he couldn't keep his subconscious from daydreaming.

Coulson sparring with him, teaching him some Jiu-Jitsu moves, the moment turning into a fun romp. Coulson sharing a drink with him late at night after a rough workday, and making out with him before bidding him goodnight. Coulson helping him dress for an event, which inevitably leads to them _undressing_.

And it wasn't just the physicality of Coulson that he craved. He daydreamed about laying in bed and watching Coulson dress in the morning, going about his routine, being able to be a part of that. About coming back to his quarters and Coulson was there waiting for him, tucked in his bed, reading something. He dreamed about together exploring the old cities he had to frequently fly to for meetings, and he dreamed about exploring the kitschy crap that Coulson loved, too.

He missed having Coulson around as someone to confide in. He had more friendships among his coworkers than ever before, and yet felt lonelier than ever. He berated himself for ruining their friendship. For all his admittance that he'd been enthralled by Coulson losing his control, Jeffrey was the one that had lost control. He never should have texted him that night.  
  


**... ...**  
  


Whenever Jeffrey became particularly angry about something, he took it out on the heavy bags. He knew he had to be careful with his anger, because of his powers, and he understood himself to know when he needed this outlet.

So even when the gym was occupied by a few others in the midst of their own routines, Jeffrey put his headphones on and hauled all out on one of the punching bags. He focused his anger into his punches, paying sharp attention to the line of his wrist, the placement of his feet, where his knuckles landed against the bag.

It always served to calm and refocus him, though rarely it's happened that he destroyed the bag before he calmed down.

That's what happened today, though, and the pop of the busted material and sand pouring out to the ground was what pulled Jeffrey back into focus. The gym had emptied, and he sighed to himself. He'd probably just scared the crap out of his agents. Lovely. He yanked his headphones from his ears and stuffed them into his pocket.

"Director Mace?" Coulson's voice travelled across the room toward him, hesitant, careful. Damn it.

"Sorry. I'll replace it." He told him, beginning to unwrap his hands.

"Are you alright?" Coulson asked, honestly concerned. Jeffrey stared at him.

"Yes." He answered eventually, and then focused back on his hands. He dropped the material from one hand on the ground before focusing on the other.

"Jeffrey," Coulson murmured, his voice impossible close and his hand touching Jeffrey's.

"Don't touch me." Jeffrey yanked his hands away, giving Coulson a warning look. Coulson only blinked patiently.

"You won't hurt me." He assured him, and Jeffrey scoffed derisively. What, did Coulson just think that he was another one of his moody superheroes? As if he couldn't know that _he_  was the one that had done the hurting? A part of Jeffrey logically knew that Coulson honestly might not realize, but his broken heart was doing most of the talking and acting these days.

"I could, you know," Jeffrey threatened, and Coulson's brow twitched, no doubt not understanding where Jeffrey was coming from. "I could," He pushed Coulson toward the wall, following him when his back bumped into it, leaning his forearm against Coulson's chest.

Coulson stayed very still, barely breathing, looking carefully into Jeffrey's eyes. Jeffrey was simply overwhelmed by their closeness, by the fact that they were touching again, and he knew that he wouldn't hurt Coulson. He couldn't, even as frustrated as he was with him. As hurt as he felt by him.

"God, I hate myself." Jeffrey muttered under his breath, and just as Coulson opened his mouth to say something in response, Jeffrey kissed him roughly. Coulson froze again, allowed Jeffrey to plunder his mouth with his tongue, his lips bruising. Jeffrey yanked himself away with a gasping jerk, his lip curling in anger before he turned and stalked out of the room.

He simply couldn't be professional about Phil Coulson. Even in his anger, the familiar touch of Coulson's lips had ghosted through him and calmed him more than anything else had.  
  


**———**

 

"You're angry at me." Phil noted, stepping into his office and closing the door behind him. Jeffrey wasn't prepared for this conversation, but he couldn't help but scoff nonetheless. "Because of what happened at the hotel in LA."

"What gave you that idea?" Jeffrey snarked, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

"I tried to give you space because that's what I thought was best." Coulson pointed out, and Jeffrey raised his eyebrows as he stood up.

"You thought space was best? After - " He dropped his voice, remembering where they were and the agent that camped outside of his doorway, "after quite possibly the best fucking night of my life you thought it was best to _avoid_  me?"

"I..." Coulson blinked. "Of your life?" He frowned as if he thought Jeffrey was lying.

"I'm not angry, Phil. Well, not mainly anyway. I'm fucking _hurt_. You _hurt_  me." Jeffrey pointed his finger at him, and Coulson's expression crumbled as he looked down at his feet. He looked mortified.

"It was self-preservation, Jeffrey!" Coulson blurted defensively, and Jeffrey raised his eyebrows higher. "I had no reason to suspect that - that that night wasn't just a _loss of control_  on your part." Coulson glared at him through his own mortification, and Jeffrey gave him a perplexed look.

" _I'm_  the bad guy now?"

" _You're_ the one who didn't question my distance. You're the one that kept signing off on all of my missions, kept acting like the Director and nothing more, kept acting like I've never knelt before you and had your cock down my throat!"

"Jesus, Phillip, keep your voice down." Jeffrey hissed, his blush spreading along his neck. "It's easy to put on an _act_  when that's all you're used to." He told Coulson. Coulson considered that, and relaxed slightly. Jeffrey sighed heavily. "I was only trying to protect my own heart, you know." He admitted quietly. "I didn't even know... That morning, when I woke up and you weren't there, _that_  was when I realized."

"Realized what?" Coulson asked hesitantly.

"That I love you." Jeffrey shrugged half-heartedly, the fight leaving him. "That I've loved you for quite a while. I'd figured it out that night in the alley, but I didn't admit it to myself until that morning."

"You're in love with me." Coulson repeated, his tone unreadable.

"Damn it, Phil, sometimes I just want to get down on my knees in front of you and do whatever you tell me to do." Jeff admitted with frustration. Phil blinked at him a bit robotically for a moment. "I would do anything for you. Don't you see that?" He sat down roughly in his chair. "That's incredibly inconvenient, as your Director."

"You... _anything_  I tell you to do?" Coulson wondered curiously, and Jeffrey groaned and covered his face with his hand.

"Please, Phil, I realize that sassy comments are your defense mechanism, but my heart can't take it right now."

"Have you forgotten?" Coulson asked quietly, slowly stepping around Jeffrey's desk. Jeffrey turned his chair to watch him warily.

"Forgotten what?"

"You make me lose control, Jeff." Coulson told him pointedly. "Me; one of Fury's most trusted agents, you're right-hand man, arguably one of the best field agents to come through the organization."

"And humble, too." Jeffrey commented, still wary as Coulson knelt in front of his chair, his hands on the armrests to keep his balance.

"I can't control myself at all when it comes to you. I kept space between us because whenever I'm in the same room with you..." He eyes trailed down Jeffrey's shirtfront. "When I remember what we did that night, I become overwhelmed with it. All I want to do is..." He trailed off as he slowly reached his hands forward toward Jeffrey's shirt.

Jeffrey sat still as Coulson gently tugged his tie lose and away from his collar. Jeffrey blinked hard, half-wondering if he was daydreaming again, as Coulson began to unbutton his shirt.

"Phil," He half-heartedly warned, but Coulson shifted onto his knees closer to the chair, until his torso was pressed between Jeffrey's knees.

"I want to show you how much I love you." Coulson told him with his eyes still lowered to his chest as more skin was revealed to him. "Every day, even since I've tried to put space between us, I still constantly thought about how I can."

"Why didn't you ever say something?" Jeffrey wondered softly, relaxing his arms on the armrests of his chair as Coulson continued unbuttoning his shirt.

"I'm not always the best with words," Coulson admitted wryly, and Jeffrey raised his eyebrow. Coulson tugged the ends of Jeffrey's shirt out of his pants, and pushed it to the side, marveling at his chest for a moment before sliding his hands against his skin.

Jeffrey closed his eyes, relishing in his warm touch.

"I do love you, too," Coulson told him quietly. "I love you more than I've loved anyone. And that scares the shit out of me."

"Is that why you distract yourself with my body?" Jeffrey teased gently. Coulson looked up at him with wide eyes, and then smirked and nodded a little. "Why you thought you needed to show me, instead of just tell me." He sobered, and Coulson nodded again.

"I've always been able to figure out every situation I've been put in. You were a curveball, though." Coulson told him, brushing his thumbs against his ribcage. "And I'm going to tell you now, before I lose my confidence, that I'm in love with you." He leaned forward and softly touched his mouth against Jeffrey's stomach. Jeffrey sucked in a breath in surprise. "I admire your courage," Coulson said, sliding his mouth upward along his ribcage. "I am proud of you in how you've grown since telling the truth about your powers." He kissed the center of Jeffrey's chest.

"Even when you're the one that frustrates me, you've always had a way of calming me down," Jeffrey sighed deeply, leaning his head back against his chair.

Coulson's fingers gripped around Jeffrey's crotch, and he yanked his eyes back open.

"Calming you down?" Coulson mused, feeling evidence of quite the opposite.

"The man I love just told me that he's in love with me. Excuse me that my heart isn't the only thing feeling a little _full_  at the moment." Jeffrey snarked as he lowered his head to meet Coulson's smirking gaze.

Coulson smiled widely, and Jeffrey couldn't help but smile as well, and touched his hand against the side of Coulson's face, brushing his thumb against the crow's feet gathered at the corner of his eye.

"I do adore your face." Jeffrey mused softly, and Coulson raised his eyebrow slightly as he squeezed his hand around his bulge.

"Just my face?"

"And your hands." Jeffrey nodded. Coulson leaned forward again, and Jeffrey allowed his hand to fall back to the armrest as Coulson's nose brushed against his chest.

"Only my hands?" He wondered, pressing his tongue flat against Jeffrey's nipple and licking him. Jeffrey jumped, and chuckled.

"And your mouth." He agreed, and Coulson smiled against his skin as he continued to pay attention to his chest for a moment, until Jeffrey writhed a little against the chair. "Kiss me, Phil," He requested, and Coulson immediately complied, his hand still on Jeffrey's crotch as his tongue took ownership of Jeffrey's mouth.

"Wait," Coulson suddenly pulled their mouths apart with a rush of air. "This is one of your fantasies, isn't it?"

"What?" Jeffrey's brain was having trouble following. "Telling each other we love each other?"

"No - well, maybe - me, in here." He knelt back down in front of Jeffrey's chair and wiggled excitedly. "Sucking you off under your desk." He wriggled his eyebrows, and Jeffrey felt himself blush beet red, which was fairly ironic considering how heavily they'd been making out.

"I... you have a good memory." Jeffrey told him, and Coulson's grin was electrifying.

"That's not all I remember."  
  


**... ...**  
  


"Director?" Daisy wondered hesitantly. "You uh, all good?"

He was standing in a bit of a dazed, loopy happiness as he prepared the coffee maker, having totally missed her entering the kitchen behind him.

"I'm great," He told her, sending her a quick smile before focusing toward the machine again. He was sure it was written all over his face, and he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. But damn, he felt _good_  in a way he hasn’t in a long, long time.

"You, uh," She chuckled lightly, "Look like you just got laid within an inch of your life."

Mildly embarrassed, Jeffrey darted his hand up and realized his hair was sticking up messily. That coupled with the fact that it was almost eleven o’clock in the morning and he was still wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants probably told enough of a story _without_  her seeing the expression on his face. He copied her hesitant laugh and admitted,

"I kind of feel like I did." He glanced at her, waiting for her to say something about it being wrong for a Director to have sex with one of his agents, but she was smirking widely at him.

"That good, huh?" She mused, looking impressed. "Go Phil."

Jeffrey blushed wildly, remembering the sound of Phil grunting overtop of him while Jeffrey moaned unashamedly into his mattress. It hadn't been anything particularly crazy; lazy morning sex that neither of them wanted to draw out too much, given what they'd done the night before, but it had been perfect. Between last night and this morning, Jeffrey felt practically weightless.

"Aww," Daisy's tone softened, and Jeffrey wondered what his face had done. "You really like him, huh?" He nodded with no hesitation.

"Yeah. I do."

Daisy's smile was more warm and less teasing, now.

"That's really cute. And good to hear… because I know he's pretty enamored with you, too."

"Yeah." Jeffrey grinned, his heart feeling full. "You're the one that sent him to my office yesterday, aren't you? And the one that made him talk to me in the gym the other day."

"May and I already have things covered in the office," Daisy told him in a non-answer. "She's assuming that you're under the weather, or something, and I'll confirm that." She gestured her chin toward the Grumpy Cat mug he was filling with the fresh brew. "You better go take him that. He turns into Grumpy Cat if he hasn't had his coffee." Jeffrey nodded knowingly. "You uh, go have fun." Daisy teased, giving him a saucy eyebrow, and he huffed a laugh as he watched her head up toward the Director’s office. Thank goodness his quarters were soundproofed, because they were right next to the office and if Agent May had overheard any of the noises he and Phil had been making…

Jeffrey felt his ears turn red as he carefully picked up his and Phil's coffees in both hands and slunk up the stairs as well. If he was quick, May wouldn't hear or see him, and they could keep up the illusion of the flu. Hopefully.

Thinking of Phil waiting for him in his bed, probably still naked, made Jeffrey smile widely and pick up the pace.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Songs - Primarily inspired by the Simon Curtis album RA, but other lyrics include:  
> James Brown, _The Boss_  
>  The Staple Singers, _I'll Take You There_  
>  Greta Isaac, _Don't Tell_  
>  Over the Rhine, _The King Knows How_  
>  Simon Curtis, _Pit Of Vipers_


End file.
